


The Landing

by Smooty



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: A very Happy ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Asexuality, Aziraphale/Crowley - Freeform, BDSM, Fluff, Graysexual Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Impact Play, Non-Sex-Repulsed Asexual Character, Other, Painplay, Panic Attacks, especially the SM part, not in detail though, the sex is off screen but it is described a bit, uhhhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26500672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smooty/pseuds/Smooty
Summary: Having almost no experience with relationships of a romantic nature–and that was being generous really; no experience would be more accurate but he was nothing if not adept at self-denial–Crowley wasn’t sure when it would be appropriate to bring it up with Aziraphale. Of course not the first time, or the second, or even really any of the first few dozen times they fell into bed together, surely. For Somebody’s sake, it took him nearly 5000 years to even look into it as something he might like, nevermind openly talking about it with someone so–someone who he–someone like Aziraphale. So he didn’t.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 14





	The Landing

Having almost no experience with relationships of a romantic nature–and that was being generous really; no experience would be more accurate but Crowley was nothing if not adept at self-denial–he wasn’t sure when it would be appropriate to bring it up with Aziraphale. Of course not the first time, or the second, or even really any of the first few dozen times they fell into bed together, surely. For Somebody’s sake, it took him nearly 5000 years to even look into it as something he personally might like, never mind openly talking about it with someone so–someone like Aziraphale. So he didn’t.

It was fine really, because well, he’d only read about it. And yes, he did read but he’d never let Aziraphale catch him doing something as uncool as that. Especially not books about the sorts of things Crowley wanted. They weren’t the kind of thing you read around decent company anyway, and he kept them in an unassuming little lockbox in the back of his closet just in case. Just in case Aziraphale got curious and checked under the bed, which is where he used to keep them before they’d started their… new arrangement. 

Anyway it wasn’t a big deal, he told himself over and over again. He didn’t even really know what he was missing and it wasn’t like he wasn’t satisfied with their activities. In and out of the bedroom. They were dating now, apparently according to the conversation he overheard between his angel and that strange human woman who’d dented his Bentley. Or would have dented it, if the Bentley didn’t know better than that. But that was beside the point, because they were together, and they went on dates, and they had perfectly normal sex that still managed to blow Crowley’s non-existent socks off every time so why was he even thinking about what he’d read?

He wasn’t even sure if it was a sex thing. Sure orgasms were fun, and Aziraphale was more than obliging in that department, but that wasn’t exactly what drew him to perusing websites full of leather and niche bookshops with racy erotic sections. Crowley hadn’t had the chance–or the inclination–to try out anything so all of his knowledge was theoretical, but he didn’t think that all of this was about getting off. All of his personal experiments had pointed to it being a lot more about the experience and the effects afterwards than anything else. Though again, there was always the chance things could be different with Aziraphale, mostly because everything was different with Aziraphale. 

But Crowley was too nervous to even bring it up so he’d never find out, and that was fine. For the time being he could be happy just looking things up and yearning for something he’d never have; which wasn’t really anything new. Bookshops in London were dangerous, because there was always a small chance that Aziraphale might wander in looking for a hidden treasure, which led to Crowley spending most of his time in them sequestered in their dark corners, shoulders up around his bright red ears. At least with online research and shopping he didn’t have to worry about the angel popping up.

It was one of those days when Crowley felt the itch to go out and wander London. Aziraphale was still back at the bookshop, waiting on the delivery of a rare book from America he’d had Crowley order online so it was the perfect time for the demon to do a little bit of perusing. Normally he’d have to avoid any bookshops in Soho, which was a real shame since there were a number of racy little shops he really wanted to check out. But today he had the chance to do just that, knowing Aziraphale would be tucked up in the shop until at least dinnertime, when they had plans to go out to Délicatesse de L'amant, a new french restaurant that Crowley had had to make actual reservations at to ensure a good table. That gave him at least 3-4 hours of time to explore, and maybe find a few new books to add to his stash. 

With an uncharacteristic pep in his step he’d kissed the angel goodbye and sauntered out into the chilly street. He made sure to walk in the opposite direction of where he was going just in case Aziraphale somehow put the pieces together. Crowley knew it was more than a little paranoid of him to circle the block before heading to his destination, but he just couldn’t take the chance that Aziraphale might find out and–well he didn’t know exactly what he was worried might happen. But fucking everything up–and really, his new relationship with Aziraphale was everything–terrified Crowley to such an extreme extent that he wasn’t willing to take any risks. 

Walking into Carnal Copies was about as comfortable as those things usually were for Crowley, which was to say, about as comfortable as walking through central London with his wings out would be. The person manning the register had enough tact to ignore him, past a cursory nod. Crowley didn’t return the nod, didn’t even make eye contact as he instead scanned the shelves looking for the section that would have the books he wanted. 

He found them at the very back beside an uncomfortable looking sofa and armchair combo that wouldn’t have looked out of place back at his flat. The hand written sign on the bookshelf, done in that loopy style everyone online was so fond of these days nearly mocked him with its cheeriness. This was anything but cheery, Crowley felt like he was about to crawl out of his own skin with anxiety any moment, but he needed to do this. Maybe if he had enough facts, maybe if he could just figure out exactly what this obsession was, he could stop thinking about it. He’d read enough to satisfy this insatiable curiosity and be able to say ‘alright, yeah, that’s not for me” and call it a day.

Picking a book at random from underneath the S&M sub-header of the BDSM section Crowley took a deep breath before opening it to the table of contents. It was an older book, probably early 60’s at the latest. The front cover was racy, a woman, back arched in unspeakable pleasure as her lover sank their teeth into her neck and he tried to look at it as little as possible. Unfortunately the book was full of pictures of the same ilk and no matter how many pages he flipped through he couldn’t escape them. Black and white images of pale skin and dark bruises, hands gripping limbs so tight Crowley could almost feel it himself. His knees began to feel wobbly and he was suddenly thankful for the sofa next to the bookshelf as he sank into it, still clutching the book. 

This wasn’t working at all. Just like every other time he’d gone out looking for information that might turn him off of this obsession, what he’d found only made him want more. He was imagining himself in place of the humans in each picture, imagining Aziraphale standing over him and doling out pain and pressure and love. What would it feel like, the sting of the angel’s whip against his back and thighs? Would Aziraphale be kind, or ruthless, harsh or forgiving? Crowley didn’t know which option he craved more. 

“Ngk,” he sighed, closing the book and cradling his head in his hands instead. The crawling under his skin begged for some way out, for a sharp stinging slap or bite to calm his frayed nerves. His hands crept up past his face and into his hair where they began to tug and pull; a brief distraction. It was never enough when he did it himself though, only a brief respite from the panic. Crowley couldn’t help but wonder if it might be different with someone else, a specific someone else. 

The bookshop was quiet enough that the sounds of the city were distantly audible even from where he was sitting in the back. Some idiot with a bad muffler, a delivery person’s bike bell, the clunk of a baby pram, Crowley could hear it all in excruciating detail and he just wanted everything to stop. This had been a bad idea, the store was too close to home and he was too keyed up from the anxiety over being caught. And it got worse when he heard the cheery dinging of the bell by the front door. Crowley wanted to disappear, to transform into the smallest snake he could and hide but he couldn’t focus long enough. He’d be lucky if he could miracle up a couple pounds, never-mind hide himself in any way. 

He just had to hope that whoever walked in wasn’t interested in the books at the back where he was currently having his little breakdown. They must have stopped at the front desk because Crowley could hear someone speaking with the person at the reception, and then laughter, the comfortable sort you’d share with a friend. A regular customer, then. Hopefully they’d be chatting for a while, long enough for Crowley to pull himself together and leave. He tightened the fists in his hair, begging for the little bit of pain to ground him enough that he could get up and pretend to be normal long enough to get back to the Mayfair flat . The glasses would help, they’d cover his eyes so no one could see the terror there, fear that haunted him after every one of these little forays. Crowley, a demon, ashamed of a little sadism and masochism. It was ridiculous. 

“–y dear, you’ve been a great help. You said the new ones are in the back?” The new customer asked. Crowley’s entire body went rigid in his seat. Stupid, stupid he should have recognized that voice, that laugh, the second he heard it. What was Aziraphale doing in a bookshop like this? He began to nearly hyperventilate as the angel’s familiar footsteps drew closer and closer to Crowley’s spot. Crowley only just managed to stand up and was about to snap his fingers to magic himself anywhere other than here when the angel rounded the corner and their eyes met. The book he’d been flipping through tumbled to the floor between them, landing on one of the more explicit images like the universe was mocking him.

“Crowley? I thought you’d gone back to your flat?” Aziraphale asked. He looked a little surprised, but not necessarily shocked to find the demon having a breakdown in the back of an erotic bookstore which should have been comforting for Crowley, but he was too anxious to really notice. Hand poised to snap, breathing shallow and erratic, Crowley knew he needed come up with an excuse and get away as soon as possible so he could calm down. Only, he had no idea how to do that.

“A-angle I–” Aziraphale leant down to retrieve the fallen book. He studied the image it was open to–one of a man bound to a bed while his partner stood over him with a riding crop–with a look of mild interest.

“Doing a little reading then? If you were looking for something like this you could have said. I have a whole section in the back, away from prying eyes of course. I wouldn’t mind you taking a look if you wanted.”

“N-n-no, I didn’t–that’s not mine!” Crowley garbled. His hands were still in his hair, pulling, digging, not doing a single thing to help make any sense of this situation. If he’d been more aware of anything other than the blind panic running through his body–because surely Aziraphale could put two and two together; Crowley in an erotic bookstore, looking at that wanting that–he would have been able to see the look of concern growing on the angel’s face. 

“Well obviously, but you were thinking of buying it, yes? Is everything alright Crowley, you look rather upset.” He made to reach out, like he was going to pull Crowley’s hands away from his hair but Crowley couldn’t let him do that. No no, the sting in his scalp was probably the only thing keeping him tethered to his corporation at this point. So he flinched back, knocked his knee against a bookshelf and all but fell against the sofa, still yanking on his hair. “Crowley!”

“No, no, m’fine. It’s stupid I–” Oh for Hell’s sake his fangs were coming out. Wait, that could be useful. He bit down on his own lip until he felt blood. There, that was better.

“Crowley stop! What is the matter with you?” Aziraphale’s hand shot forward again, and this time he was fast enough to grab Crowley’s jaw. “Tell me how to help you!”

“Mister Fell? Are you alright back there?” The worker out front was making their way to the back, probably drawn by the thumping of Crowley falling and the book hitting the floor. Crowley began to shake, finally letting go of his hair to cover up his face so the shop tender wouldn’t see what a fucking mess he was. He couldn’t take Aziraphale and a human seeing him like this. Luckily, Aziraphale seemed to catch on rather quickly, and with a sharp snap they were both in the backroom of A.Z. Fell and Co. 

“Oh dear, I hate to do that to them. They’ll be awfully confused I’m sure,” he fussed. When they’d popped back into reality they’d kept their respective positions, so Crowley was now sprawled against the lumpy, but familiar sofa next to the angel’s desk and Aziraphale was crouched down slightly, holding Crowley’s chin. “But never mind that, you’re bleeding!”

“Yeah?” Crowley squeaked, still trembling. Aziraphale dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief most likely from the 1700’s. Being back somewhere safe didn’t do much to calm him down, given that there was still the small issue of Aziraphale knowing now. He knew Crowley wanted things, darker things like pain and roughness, things that an angel would never want to provide for him. Aziraphale was all softness and coy smiles. Even if he could be a bit of a bastard he wouldn’t even want to do the kinds of things Crowley wanted him too, and the fact that Crowley had gone behind his back, had even thought about it–

“Crowley, dear, breath.” He was breathing, he was breathing a lot and that was probably the problem. These human corporations were so finicky, too much air and they ended up all numb and tingly, too little and they started to fail. How was Crowley supposed to know how to get it right, especially when faced with the possible imminent demise of the most important relationship of his life? “Slowly Crowley, slowly. Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

“N-not hurt.” Aziraphale let out a sigh of relief and Crowley couldn’t understand. How could the angel not see what was going on? With gentle hands Aziraphale pried Crowley’s fingers from his hair and smoothed the wild locks back from his face. All the tugging had pulled them free of his high ponytail and left it snagged and messy. 

“Alright, thank you love. You just keep breathing for me, nice and even,” Aziraphale instructed. Crowley was trying, he really really was. The fact that Aziraphale was there, still talking to him, still holding his hands, it must mean something. He hoped to somebody that Aziraphale would forgive him for his unorthodox needs and that they could continue on like today had never happened.

“Sssorry,” he hissed, trying not to gnaw on his lip more. “M’ssorry, we can forget today yeah?”

Aziraphale’s face scrunched up in confusion. “If you like, but I’m not sure exactly there is to forget.” There wasn’t much more he could do to straighten out Crowley’s hair without removing the hair tie. He brushed his fingers over it and Crowley nodded his consent for Aziraphale to pull the it out and let his hair flow loose. “Can you tell me what happened Crowley? Finding you in such a state… I’m worried dear.”

Crowley took a deep shaky breath in and tried to focus on the nice sensation of Aziraphale’s fingers in his hair. He wished they were pulling instead of stroking. “Didn’t think–you were supposed to be in the shop all day so I–but it’s fine angel, it’s fine I don’t need it.” He could tell by Aziraphale’s face that he wasn’t making sense but he didn’t know how to fix it. Distantly he heard the sound of his breathing picking back up as Aziraphale removed his hands from his hair and tried to study his face. 

“The delivery I was waiting for arrived extremely early. I had my eye on a few books at the shop I found you in and I decided that I’d close early. It was a bit of a shock, seeing you there,” Aziraphale rambled. He’d been kneeling in front of Crowley on the sofa since they arrived at the book shop but now he stood, straightening his waistcoat before gingerly sitting beside him instead. “Is it alright if I put my arm around you?”

“Y-yeah.” Crowley’s throat was dry and his eyes were hot. A strong, safe arm draped across his shoulder and pulled him close. Crowley leaned into it heavily, tiredly. “Sorry.”

“What for?” Aziraphale asked, using his thumb to rub soothing circles against the demon’s shoulder. “I don’t understand.”

“You… saw. The book,” he mumbled into the well worn fabric of the angel’s coat. Crowley knew this was it, the moment when Aziraphale would figure out that Crowley wasn’t what he thought he was. Sure the angel knew he was a demon and seemed willing to put up with his mood swings, general snark, and penchant for causing suffering. But surely this thing would tip the scales. Liking pain, needing it to feel right in his skin wasn’t something Aziraphale would be able to overlook. “What I–I go out and look for books. Just to try to understand why I’m… like this.”

“This is about the book?” 

“Y-yeah, well no, but yeah.” Crowley growled and began to grab at his hair again in frustration. “It’s this, what I like, but you won’t like it. You’ll hate it, and then you’ll hate me.” 

Immediately Aziraphale drew him closer against his chest, making little noises of comfort. He didn’t try to stop Crowley dragging at his hair this time. A sharp, wounded noise ripped its way out of Crowleys’ chest when he realized he didn’t have the strength to pull away like he felt he should have.

“No, no dear heart. I could never hate you. Especially not for what I think you’re talking about.” Aziraphale rocked them side to side a little, slowly but consistently. “What on Earth has made you think I’d be upset with you wanting something a little different? I hope I didn’t give you that impression!”

“Yer’ an angel, an’ you don’t–you never said anything about those kinds of things.” Crowley’s hands slowly unclenched from his hair and landed in his lap. “I tried to look things up in books and online but everything was so–I didn’t think you’d like it.”

Aziraphale hummed lowly, like he understood. Crowley, who wasn’t nearly ready to feel understood continued to brace for something horrible. “Ah well, it can be a little difficult to find decent representation if you don’t know what you’re looking for. Would you be willing to tell me anything a little more specific? Or we can stop talking about it now, I don’t want to push you dear.”

“Ssspecific?” he sobbed, cutting himself off with a reedy giggle before the tears could start back up. “I don’t know the words–I’ve barely been able to think about it in the past century and you want specific?”

“Alright, alright. Let’s not discuss it now. You’re clearly very upset. But I want you to know,” Aziraphale once again took Crowley’s hands in his and gave them a firm squeeze, “I’m not going to judge you. I love you.”

The little snippets of songs Aziraphale continued to hum to him and the back and forth rocking eventually lulled Crowley into something of a trance. It reminded him of the release that came with giving himself a good smack, that release of endorphins that mellowed him out and made everything a little fuzzy. Like a large soft blanket Aziraphale wrapped him up and held him close. For the first time since exiting the bookshop to go on his ill-fated excursion this morning Crowley felt like he could breath. After a couple of calm minutes Aziraphale snapped his fingers and procured two steaming cups of tea.

“There now, why don’t you take this. A nice cuppa will do you good,” Aziraphale pressed him into taking the tea, then having a sip. The cup was made exactly how Crowley liked it with more sugar than was strictly socially acceptable and a little milk. The angel took his own the exact same. 

“Thanks angel,” he murmured into his mug. As the tea warmed him from the inside out he realized he was still wearing his coat and boots, and that he was getting the sofa and Aziraphale’s clothing quite dirty. “Fuck your coat! Lemme fix it.”

Crowley snapped his fingers, banishing his outerwear to the coat rack, and the damp soaking into fabric away into the ether. The rather thick woollen frock coat he’d been wearing had been hugging his limbs tightly and now it was gone he needed something to counteract that loss of pressure. Aziraphale seemed to already know and was once again rubbing circles with his thumb against his shoulder and even down his arm. Crowley wished he could ask the angel to use his nails a little, not tearing the skin but leaving faint red marks that would help tie him back to the earth instead of feeling like he was always floating 2-feet above himself. 

“Oh, thank you Crowley. I hadn’t even noticed. Are you feeling any better?”

Crowley lifted a shoulder half-heartedly, jostling both of their cups. “No. I feel…” Anxious, scared, tense, like a huge fuckup, embarrassed, “a lot of things.”

“Thank you for telling me. We can talk about it if you want or we can wait a little while longer but I do think we should discuss this sometime soon. I’m very worried, some of the things you were saying…” there was a brief pause during which Crowley felt like he’d never breath again, “you know that my love for you is unconditional, right?”

“Yes,” Crowley answered automatically because he did know. Aziraphale could never be anything less than perfect in his eyes and so if Crowley was feeling insecure, it must be his own fault. “I’m being stupid.”

Again Aziraphale paused, taking the time to set his empty teacup, the Crowley’s, on the side table. Without anything to occupy his hands Crowley began to pick at the skin around his finger nails. When the silence got to be too much for him to handle he pulled away from the angel’s chest to study his face, looking for any sign that he’d said the wrong thing, done the wrong thing somehow. But the look he saw on Aziraphale’s face wasn’t frustrated, or annoyed, or even pitying. He looked a lot like he normally did when they got the chance to be alone, pleased and a little bit too soppy for Crowley’s tastes. Just the same old Aziraphale, Crowley’s life preserver in the storm.

“You know what I think,” Aziraphale said finally. He was using his Angel voice, the one that was usually followed by Crowley getting a long and boring lecture about the evils of well… being evil. “I think that maybe we need to have a talk about a lot of things, like what’s going on between us. Especially since you seemed to think I would leave you, the love of my 6000 year-long life, because you were reading a BDSM book. My feelings for you are not so easily severed, Crowley.”

Crowley blinked once, his brain trying to figure out how to connect his mouth to his thoughts so he could explain that he knew all that. He knew that he was the one fucking this up, that he was the one who was making a big deal out of nothing, that he was the one having an issue. But his thoughts were completely scrambled from hearing the word “BDSM” come from his angel’s lips. “I don’t want to ask for too much to quickly angel. I’ll never–I won’t be the reason there has to be distance between us again.”

“Ah,” Aziraphale exclaimed softly. “That would be my fault then. It’s not as if I’ve given you much reason to expect that I’d stick around in the past, have I?” 

“No, no angel. It’ss not your fault. It’s me being sstupid an-and over sssensitive. I’ll get over it, we can never talk about it again and forget about it.” That would be the best outcome from all of this mess. If they couple pretend this entire afternoon never happened, and Crowley could go on feeling well and truly chastised and not think about pain and the pleasure to be found there-in for at least another millennium. 

“Why would we want to forget about it dear? I’d love to discuss any fantasies you might have thoroughly.” If anyone else had said that it would have been sexual but Aziraphale just sounded curious. Maybe a little… enticed. Like he’d enjoy nothing more than to spend an afternoon listing and discussing the pros and cons of each of their kinks like he would the menu at a new restaurant. “I might be able to provide you with some better literature too. Books that will show a more realistic, informed view.”

Crowley assumed his hearing was broken, or that he’d actually gone completely off the deep end of madness and was hallucinating this entire conversation. Aziraphale. Had. Erotic books. That was what he was hearing. Erotic books that, apparently, were far more accurate than the ones Crowley had managed to scrounge up. A… curated selection of porn. Aziraphale. Porn. 

“Or maybe that’s a little much, I didn’t mean to push. I only wanted to be certain that you understood that it would take something catastrophic to remove me from your side now. I’m afraid you’re quite stuck with me.” 

“Sshut up,” Crowley growled, mashing his face against the angel’s lapels. “You’re really OK with that stuff?”

“If I am to assume that by ‘that stuff” you mean, bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, sadis–mph!” Crowley’s hand shot out without him telling it to, cutting Aziraphale off abruptly. The angel’s lips curved into a smile under his fingers.

“No, really, shut up angel. You’re gonna discorporate me,” Crowley rasped. Aziraphale continued to smirk. He placed a kiss against Crowley’s palm, the wetness of his lips leaving a cold spot on Crowley’s hand. “‘What if–what if it wasn’t just a sex thing?”

“How d’you mean?” Aziraphale asked. This time it was obvious that he was curious, and not judgemental in the slightest, the honest curve of his smile giving it away. 

Crowley squirmed. “Like, don’t get me wrong, it can be a sex thing if you want–whatever you want angel–but sometimes it’s like I’m crawling out of my skin and I need someone to put me back inside.” It would be OK, Aziraphale said that he didn’t mind. Or rather, he implied it. Oh God what if Crowley had gotten it wrong again!

“And you’d like me to be the one to do that for you. To make you feel like you’re in your own body?” Aziraphale’s eyes darkened as he drew very, very close to Crowley’s face. “You want me to be a little rough, love?”

“Yess…” Crowley sighed, going limp. His nose rested against Aziraphale’s check as he whispered, “Want to be able to think again angel.”

“Dear boy,” Aziraphale sighed, connecting their lips for a brief but luxuriant kiss, “you only had to ask. But I do think it’d be best to hold off until we can discuss this, don’t you?”

“Nnnnooo,” Crowley drawled, trying to chase after Aziraphale’s lips and continue their kiss. Kissing was easy, and it meant both their mouths were too busy for talking. 

“Crowley, you just had a nervous breakdown in a book store because I saw you reading an erotic book. I do think we need to talk about it at least a little before getting into anything serious.” Aziraphale dogged his uncoordinated attempts to restart their kiss with ease. “If this is something you want, then we’ll need to work on our communication.”

“Don’t wanna,” he said miserably. “You know I’m not good at talking and uh, feeling angel.”

“I’ve seen you tempt Crowley, you can be good with your words when you need to be. And I think now is one of those times.” Despite his insistence Aziraphale did kiss him again, even if it was only a quick and chaste peck. “But I think it might be best, and only if you’re comfortable, if I show you those books I was talking about? 

Of course Aziraphale’s answer would be more books. It wasn’t such a bad idea though, since reading about the things he liked was familiar enough. Maybe he could take a few back to his flat and read them on his own. Looking at anything like that while around Aziraphale might still have been a bit much.

“Mgh… Can you just… miracle them over to my place? I’ll uh, look at them later?” After a couple glasses of whiskey, probably. 

“As long as you promise to take good care of them. No beverages within a one metre radius, clean hands only, and you absolutely cannot have them anywhere near your plant room!” Aziraphale instructed. “I’ll send them off to you tonight, though I do hope you’ll stay over this evening.”

“If you want me to,” Crowley agreed. Really he was glad Aziraphale offered, since going home and stewing in his thoughts was very unappealing. Crowley enjoyed a good evil brood from time to time, but now that he had the option of being cared for and pampered by Aziraphale, it wasn’t as appealing. “I could order us takeaway, if you like.”

“How about we do something you’d like? It seems to me you’ve had quite the day, and I’d enjoy getting the chance to indulge you a little.” Aziraphale asked as if there was something Crowley would like to do more than make the angel happy. He looked so hopeful though, and Crowley didn’t want to disappoint him–he’d probably done that enough today already, with the whole smutty book and breakdown thing–so he’d have to think of something fast.

“Well, uh, ngk, mmm… I don’t really… know?” They were still curled up on the sofa. At some point Aziraphale had toes off his shoes and tucked his legs up so Crowley could nestle himself into the V behind his knees and against his side. “I like… this? Sitting here. Together.”

“I like this as well. How about…” Aziraphale’s face scrunched up in thought in that way that made Crowley want to whine with how cute it was, “How about we stay just like this for a little while, and then we order something to nibble on. I’ll even let you miracle a TV back here so we can watch one of your spy films.”

“Ok, ok we can do that,” Crowley agreed muzzily. “Can we watch it with the commentary on? That’s where all the really good, juicy details are and I know you like a bit of gossip, angel.”

“Absolutely. Now, I know you said you wanted to stay like this for a while, but we could discuss our meal options while we do so… yes?”


End file.
